


Drabbles and Memes and Ships, Oh My!

by RoverMaelstrom



Category: Dystopia Rising (Live-Action Roleplaying Game)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Hayven, M/M, Multi, Other, Sanctuary, Scenic The Grove, Shipping, The Landing, The Mass, Twelve Knots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-16 02:52:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13044981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoverMaelstrom/pseuds/RoverMaelstrom
Summary: A collection of drabbles written mostly for memes or hype posts, mostly non-canon.





	1. Shipping - Alec Circ Soleil and Tri

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A story that should clearly demonstrate my opinion of what winter in the Mass is like.

The Iron was behind the bar, his glow blending with the twinkle of the Xmas lights behind him and twinkling in the glasses he was putting away as he began closing up after the last customers of the night. Outside, the snow blew furiously about, winds howling up off the ocean like a pack of banshees. The door blew open to reveal a soggy, miserable looking figure in stiff canvas clothes with an oiled leather pouch on his back. He almost slipped coming in but managed to catch the door, leaning against it to force it closed against the gale even as Tri came around the corner of the bar with a mop for the snow rapidly melting on the floor. He started cleaning up as the figure finally got the door closed and proceeded to slide down to the floor, still leaning against the door.

“You alright there, mister?”

The figure nodded, reaching up to pull his hat off, then winced and shook his head as his obviously frozen fingers failed to actually function well enough to do more than bat at his head. “Can’t...stupid hat...stupid cold fingers...help?” A wincing grin crossed the young man’s face as he looked up at the Iron.

Tri set down his mop and quickly made his way over to the man on the floor. Up close, it was obvious that not only were the man’s fingers dangerously frozen, but his hat appeared to be frozen to his head also, with frost dotting his eyelashes and cheeks and his scarf slowly sagging as it began to thaw in the warmth of the Dunwich.

“Come on, the kitchen is warmer and you can thaw out in there, ok?” the Iron said, helping the man on the floor up and across the room. Once they made it to the kitchen, he gently set the stranger down, leaning him against the still warm stove, and began to peel off the once frozen, now icly sodden layers off the man. “What’s your name?”

That wincing grin crossed the man’s face once more. “Name’s Alec, Alexander Circ Soleil. What’s yours?”

“Hunting Iron 3-4C, but everyone calls me Tri.”

Alec’s eyes sparkled, “Well Tri, you’re officially my hero. I thought I was done for out there until I practically ran into the side of your building.”

The Iron blushed, turning aside to lay Alec’s icy clothing in the sink to dry. Alec gingerly shrugged his shoulders and began working his sodden inner wool shirt off, revealing a shivering, heavily tattooed upper body. Tri held back a snicker at the words tattooed across one deltoid - “Somebody teach this dumb Vegasian to read” - and took the shirt too, laying it in the sink with the other items. “I have extra clothes in my pack, but I dunno if they stayed dry or not,” Alec said as he stuck his hands under his armpits, wincing again.

“They probably didn’t, it’s pretty wet outside. But we have plenty of extra blankets, so you’ll be warm in the meantime and I can lay your stuff out to dry and it should be ok by tomorrow.” Tri said, getting up and heading over to a closet. Alec nodded, clumsily peeling off the rest of his soaked clothing, and carefully stood up to grab the blanket Tri held out for him. His fingers still weren’t cooperating and the blanket almost fell, but with Tri’s help he got wrapped up warmly and sighed, his eyelids drooping.

“Hey Tri? If I’m gonna spend the night here, do you mind a cuddle partner? I don’t generate heat too well on my own, and I’m kinda worried about my hands - can’t entertain or brew if they down work right.” Alec had a worried, slightly puppy dog eyed expression on his face, then his eyes widened, “And I didn’t actually mean the generate heat thing as a flirtation, in case you took it that way, I mean, unless you wanted to take it that way, but really, I just meant I need extra body heat and please?”

Tri looked a little taken aback, but nodded. “Ok, that’s fine. Let me drop you off in my room and I’ll finish cleaning up and join you, ok?”

Alec smiled broadly, swaying on his feet with exhaustion. “You’re the best, seriously, my hero.”


	2. Ships That Pass In The Night - Lily Perennial and Alec Circ Soleil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An evening where the importance of remembering gossip becomes obvious after it's too late to do anything about it.

The Dunwich was crowded, people packed in tightly, eager to take advantage of the warmth. Lily and Gary were seated at a table off to the side, enjoying the social atmosphere. Up on the stage, a shirtless man with short, icy blonde hair, tight red pants, and a virtual tapestry of tattoos grinned as he danced with fire, warming the room up in more ways than one as he tossed out winks as easily as he tossed around his fire staff. Behind him, Sigmund was deep into his drumbeat, his metallic falls bouncing around his head as he played the wild tune the Vegasian danced to. Finally, with a pounding crechendo, the drumbeat ended and the fire dancer bowed low in a final flourish. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’ll be back up later! Let’s give a round of applause for my man Sigmund here, and I’m Alexander Circ Soleil, here to warm your cold, wintery hearts right up!” Eyes sparkling, he extinguished the ends of his staff and leaned it against the wall before moving through the crowd towards the bar.

When she’d her his pronouncement, Lily’s eyes narrowed in thought. “...Alexander Circ Soleil? Why did that name sound so familiar?” She pondered for a minute, but lost her train of thought when Gary leaned across the table for a kiss. They sat together a little longer, talking quietly with friends who passed, but finally the night grew late enough that it was time to head for home. As they got up to leave, the fire dancer passed by them on his way back up to the stage, giving Lily a sparkling smile as she passed. Lily snickered into her hand as he went by, noticing that one of his arms said, in beautifully written script, “Somebody teach this dumb Vegasian to read.”

Later that night, as she and Gary were finally snuggled up to go to sleep, she suddenly sat bolt upright. “That was IZZY’S VEGASIAN SAILOR! I knew I remembered that name! Gary, I need to borrow your notebook right now, I have a very important letter to write!”


	3. Shipping - Doc Oz and Russell Skyhunter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation in which Russell's favorite research tactic begins to become obvious.

Russell sat at a table in the local library, shivering with cold and desperately trying to concentrate on...well...anything other than the cold. Fuck winter, fuck this, fuck the cold, they thought as they curled up into themselves, pulling their scarves more tightly. Suddenly, the door blew open and Russell turned to glare at whoever was letting the even colder outside air in. However, when she saw the sack of charcoal in the man’s hand, her face split into a wide grin.

“Oz, I could metaphorically kiss you right now!” She jumped up and headed over to the fireplace, quickly sweeping the grey ashes into a waiting bucket and taking the sack from the Yorker, who sat down at the table with a sigh. Quickly, the Rover built a fire, stacking logs and charcoal and kindling in a formation that would hopefully keep burning all night. Sitting with her feet inches from the flames, she waved Oz over. “Drop your coat over there to dry and let me steal your body heat! I don’t know how you’re not freezing to death!”

Oz chuckled, pulling off his coat and walking over to the fire. He sat down behind Russell and she leaned back, sighing contentedly. “Ok, now that I can think straight again, what the heck did you drag me out here to research again?”


	4. Shipping - Lazarus the Crusader and Russell Skyhunter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An evening spent more productively than tramping through the snow in wet socks.

Russell and Lazarus trudged through the snow, talking quietly. They’d been forced off the road and back into the cover of the trees awhile back by a massive swarm of raiders, only escaping because of quick thinking and a useful stock of brews (and a convenient horde to distract the raiders). All in all, not the worst straights either of them had been in, but tramping through the woods was slowing them down enough that it became obvious that they probably weren’t going to be making it all the way to town at any reasonable hour. As the twilight began to fade into the  darkness of a new moon, Russell tapped Lazarus on the shoulder and pointed ahead.

“Up there, see that big oak tree? I’ve spent the night in it before, it’s pretty comfortable, and I’m getting more than a little anxious about trying to keep going tonight - the cold’s really getting to me, my socks are wet, and if we’re at this tree we’re still a good three hours from the Landing on a good night. Do you mind stopping until it gets light again?”

“Not a problem. I’d forgotten about the cold, honestly.”

Russell shook her head and smiled up at the Full Dead, forging ahead towards the massive oak tree. Pulling a rope out of their bag, they quickly tied evenly spaced loops then tossed it over one of the lower branches. Tying one final loop, they fed the rope through and cinched it tightly against the branch, then set one foot into the lowest of the loops and began to climb. When they reached the top of the branch, they paused, waiting for Lazarus. “Do you have enough balance to untie my rope?”

Lazarus nodded, handing Russell his sword. Carefully, he reached down and untied the rope, pulling it up and handing it to Russell. They nodded, sticking it back in their backpack, and then continued upwards, pointing out the best places to place hands and feet as they climbed through the branches. At last, they came to a spot where the tree had grown off in many different directions, leaving a sheltered little nook twined round with branches. Russell pulled themselves up and then reached down, giving Lazarus a hand for the final ascent. 

The Full Dead looked around at the little nook with interest. The open space was about three feet across, with dips and lumps and whorls of bark but no actual branches through the center, with with the main trunk almost leaning to one side and six massive branches reaching out and up all around it, forming a surprisingly protected spot. The tree was bare of leaves, of course, but the offshoot branches were so thick that relatively little snow had filtered through. Russell pushed what snow there was out and shrugged off their backpack, hanging it from a convenient knob. “So, how do’ya like it?” they grinned.

“This is surprisingly nice,” Lazarus replied, “I can see the appeal.”

“So, the easiest way for both of us to fit comfortably is probably going to be for you to sit there,” Russell pointed at a dip next to the trunk, “with my scarves behind you as needed to pad out the bark, and, if you don’t mind, I’ll curl up in your lap with my jacket under me and your nice heavy one on top of us. We’ll both be safe from falling out and as long as you don’t mind me curling up close we should both be pretty comfortable.”

“That sounds like a logical plan.”

By the time the two were situated, darkness had completely fallen and the forest was silent but for the skittering and shuffling of nocturnal beasts. Wrapped up in Lazarus’s cloak, her socks hanging on a branch to dry, Russell finally began to stop shivering and yawned deeply. “I’m probably gonna fall asleep soon, but this did make me think of something you’d probably find interesting.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

“So, I met this Sainthood Nation awhile back and she told me a story passed down to her through her family. Apparently, their version of God was a one eyed traveler, who walked the world in disguise. Her story said he gained his wisdom and the beginning of his knowledge of the secrets of the world by hanging on the great world tree for nine days, with neither food nor drink, until he was almost dead, and on the ninth day the visions came and gave him the knowledge that he sought - in exchange for his eye, for he had yet to lose one at that point in time. I thought it was kinda neat and I think about it every time I sleep up here, and I thought you might find it interesting as well.”

“Indeed. I think I would enjoy talking to this Nation, should our paths ever cross.” The Full Dead set his hand on the Rover’s head and patted it. “Go to sleep, Russell.”

“Night, Lazarus. See you in the morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, I didn't even think of the "sitting in a tree" rhyme until after this story was written...


	5. Shipping - Hasius and Russell Skyhunter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation made while sprawling in the grass on the hill of the red fort after the official end of the gathering at twelve knots for the first negotiations for a united waste.

The stars shone brightly in the heavens above the battlefield. The night air was soft, heavy with the weight of autumn perched on the edge of it’s cusp, about to tumble into winter but not quite there yet. Quiet murmuring could be heard as the watchers at the walls rested, leaning against their shields and against the bulwarks, savoring the calm between the waves. At one edge of the field, next to the walls of tangled, impassible branches that funneled the zed towards the killing grounds, a pair of shapes sprawled on the grass together.

“So, how long are you staying behind? Most of the ‘vans already left, and it’s gonna be only the locals left soon,” the Natural One asked.

“I dunno. I may stick around for a little bit, but I’m probably going to catch a ride south somehow. Never been to Sanctuary, but I feel like I ought to visit. How come you’re still here? I’m honestly surprised you haven’t left yet,” the Rover responded, poking their companion’s bare shoulder.

Hasius chuckled. “I’m heading out in the morning. Honestly, I should be asleep now, since we’re leaving so early, but, well…” he trailed off, waving his hand around. “You did ask if I wanted to come up to the fort with you tonight, and it was pretty nice last time we were up here, you know?”

Russell grinned and ruffled his hair. “Yeah, that was pretty great, to be honest. Probably one of my favorite recent memories.” They grinned and stuck their tongue out at the man next to them, continuing, “But I see how it is. You just wanted to get another massage, that’s all-”

They were cut off with a squeak as Hasius flipped around, throwing an arm over their shoulders. “Whatever! I admit nothing!”

The two dissolved into laughter, curling up in a new configuration on the grass to await the arrival of the next wave together, on the dewy grass and under the starry sky.


	6. Shipping - Spuds DeWalt and Russell Skyhunter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the tradition of research cuddles is continued.

The wind howled outside of the Double Tap, but up in the library it was relatively toasty. A rusty electric heater was humming in the center of the room, candles were perched on the table and shelves, and a pile of blankets was cozily wrapped around the forms of two rovers as they curled up on a pile of cushions.

“Clearly, the answer is osmosis. That’s the only logical conclusion,” the younger rover smirked, sticking out their tongue.

“Uh huh, of course. Clearly. And obviously rovers having a natural inclination to do everything in scarf piles has nothing to do with it, hum?” The other rover chuckled as his companion rolled their eyes.

“Well, duh, clearly osmosis is the reason for that too! Our infection wants to share knowledge, that’s why we all like to cuddle. Osmosis. It’s the solution, Spuds, just accept it as fact.”

Spuds chuckled, setting aside the book he’d been perusing and reaching for another one. “Fine, fine, I suppose that’s better than saying it’s Gravemind bullshit,” he laughed.

Russell smirked more, shifting to grab their notebook and copying down a passage from the book on their lap. “Well...osmosis is just things moving across a membrane...and skin is a membrane...and we’re all basically made of fungus anyway...so osmosis is just fungus moving from skin to skin...and we all know that the fungus is really the mortus amarantine…” they trailed off, snickering, as Spuds made an exasperated noise and tossed the blanket over their head.

“I was wondering when you’d get to that, I swear, Russell,” he grumped, his fond smile belying the grouchy voice.

Russell beamed, shifting around so their head was in Spud’s lap instead of on his shoulder. “I don’t actually know if it’s possible to do research without talking about the Gravemind...it might actually be more vital than cuddles, Spuds!” Their eyes sparkled with unconcealed mirth and Spuds chuckled fondly.

“I feel that’s a research topic we should add to the list,” he remarked as a particularly vicious blast of wind slammed into the side of the building, rattling the windows. Both sets of eyes turned, checking to make sure that really, it was just the wind, before turning back to their books.

“Right. But for this research session, we really do need to figure out what the hell happened with that ice storm...what’re your thoughts on the things that came out if it being mutated just by the cold? Or are we still working under the assumption that there’s a scientist or a group of them out there experimenting?”

“I’m not sure...but see these notes?” The cadence of the conversation eased back into more serious research topics as the pair settled back into their original task, engaged in the time honored rover tradition of research cuddles - after all, it really does make the research much, much more productive, doesn’t it?


	7. Shipping - Sinclair and Russell Skyhunter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a ridiculous game of keepaway occurs and the participants do their best to make sure to start the new year off in balance.

Russell spun around the dance floor, laughing joyously. The weather outside of the hall was awful, snow flurrying around and wind whipping through the screens of the porch, setting the chairs to rocking by themselves, but inside the hall was warm and filled with the sounds of people enjoying themselves, all backed by the blare of a gramophone in the corner. When the song ended, Russell beamed at their dance partner, bowing with a flourish, and moved off to the side of the floor. Snagging a handful of cheese and a glass of water, they headed to the table they’d left their boathook on and sprawled out in a chair, smiling happily at the scene before them and contentedly eating cheese.

A minute later, a familiar bronze face spun a chair around and joined them. “What’s up, Russ?”

“Sin! How’re you doing on this fine evening?” Russell grinned.

“Oh, just enjoying the Holy Night, you know,” he replied, leaning his elbows on the back of the chair.

Russell smirked at him. “So, hitting all the sins in balance tonight or embracing sloth and letting the others find you if they do?”

Sinclair chuckled, “Well, I wouldn’t have phrased it that way, but you’re not necessarily wrong there.”

“So, if this awesome food covers gluttony and you’re always pretty and clearly know it, so there’s pride,” Russell snarked, offering their plate of cheese. Sin took some, smirking at the rover, who continued, “and we already covered sloth, so that leaves...lust, wrath, envy, and uhm...that other one…” they screwed their face up in concentration, trying to remember.

“Greed, that’s the last one,” replied the NoA as he smirked, reaching over and stealing Russell’s entire plate. “And this is now my cheese, so there!”

Russell glared at him, “And if inspiring wrath counts, you’ve just covered that one too - give me back my cheese, damnit!” They stood up and tried to steal the plate back, ending up in an impromptu half chase, half wrestling match around the table as Sinclair held the plate out of reach and danced away from the half angry, half laughing rover. Finally, laughter winning, Russell sprawled back down in a chair in defeat and stuck their tongue out at the NoA.

“And there’s envy, you jerk - second game of keep-away you’ve beaten me. One of these days I’ll prevail!” They shook their fist mock threateningly as they attempted and failed to hold back laughter.

Sinclair grinned, tossing the last piece of cheese to Russell and sitting back down as well. “Well, I guess I have to thank you,” he said, mockingly bowing from his seat. “With your help, I can almost say I’ve achieved balance this Holy Night.”

Russell grinned again, eyes crinkling up, and leaned forward. “Well then, I feel like the timing is perfect - how about you and I make some efforts to cover that last sin and get you starting this new year off right, hum?”

Sinclair raised an eyebrow, then grinned, “That sounds like an excellent idea.”


End file.
